No, not because I throw fabulous themed parties every year. (I don't.) And not even because I have single-handedly created intricate traditions around birthdays in response to the fact that my own childhood birthdays were sadly overlooked. (I have, and they were.) No ... I feel like I can wear the BIRTHDAY badge with honor because Logan and Atticus have birthday that are just two days apart. Many, many hours of bedrest were consumed worrying that my sons would be born on the same day or, worse yet, that the younger brother would celebrate his birthday just days before the older one. You guessed it: Logan celebrates his birthday. We party hardy. Then the entire house is scrubbed free of merry making so that the scene can be set for Atticus to be the center of the universe.
My friends and I jokingly call it the Birthday Blitz. My husband calls it Birthday Overload. Whatever label you slap on it, it's badge worthy.
I've done disposables, and now I'm doing cloth. But what really earns me this badge is the fact that I can change a diaper anywhere. Seriously. I've changed diapers in carseats, truck beds, baseball stadium seats, bleachers, airplane bathrooms, you name it.
Being Logan's mommy has earned me this badge, as well as an assortment of grey hairs. Logan has the pain tolerance of a bull elephant and the common sense of your average six year-old boy. Thanks to my son, I can reset dislocated shoulders without the help of a trained medical professional. (It's all in making sure you tilt your chest just right when you slam into the doorframe. You DID want to know that, didn't you?!?!) I have also had the honor of trying to explain why my son's bruised spleen, fractured ribs and mild concussion probably wouldn't keep him from asking to go to soccer practice. Praise God for an understanding family doctor!
You want to know my shopping secret? I DON'T DO IT!!! Dh is in charge of the bi-weekly grocery shopping. I think I get this badge for finding the most efficient way for a mother to get the shopping done, don't you?
TantrumOnce upon a time, there was an adorable 2 year-old girl with tiny pigtails, bright eyes and a vocabulary that put many an adult to shame. We'll call her ... Jo. She was smart, she was sweet ... and she could wail like a banshee. Resigned to the fact that her child was possessed by a demon, the child's mother often resorted to sitting outside of the little girl's bedroom door and letting her scream it out. The little girl could go for an hour--face a hot red, eyes pinched, fists balled and mouth wide open. The mother cried and sobbed and prayed. And finally, God had mercy and ended the tantrums.
Not that I know anything about all that or anything.
Eating OutI feel like I have earned this badge by eating out with other people's children. I am constantly amazed at what passes for decent table manners in public spaces. Kids running around tables, grabbing food from whatever plate they find, screeching at full volume ... not my thing at all! Granted, there are some restaurants that are set up for this kind of thing. When in Rome, eat like animals for all I care. But if you've ever shared a restaurant table with my crew and horrified me (and fellow patrons) by letting your kids conduct their own version of table-to-table trick or treating, don't expect a repeat invitation.
November, 2003: Logan is 18 months old, Atticus is three and a half, Jo has just turned six. I board a plane destined for Atlanta, Georgia with my three little moppets. We will lay over in Atlanta before heading to Lexington, Kentucky. I spend the next eight hours under a microscope as Logan wails, bucks and spits spicy pretzels on my lap. The low point? When the kindly flight attendant comes over to offer Jo and Atticus free headphones to watch the PG-13 rated "Hulk" ... and I gratefully accept.
I have not only invested hours upon hours reading to my children, but have whiled away quite a few afternoons refining the stop-and-go oral narration of three newly-minted readers. "The. b-uh-g. can. guh-oh. He. c-ah-n. ssss-eeee." If this isn't a homeschooling mommy badge, I don't know what is.
If you want to play along, consider yourself tagged. Post YOUR badges for all to see. :-)